


A Small Dose of Happiness

by brazenlyunabashedlyshamelessly



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gallavich, Jealous!Mickey, M/M, with the slightest dose of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 21:22:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2284896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brazenlyunabashedlyshamelessly/pseuds/brazenlyunabashedlyshamelessly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during 3x03.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Small Dose of Happiness

**Author's Note:**

> After I wrote Just Keep Walking, ace3292 mentioned this scene, and talked about them possibly having sexy time afterwards, so I took that and ran with it.
> 
> As ever, comments and criticisms are more than welcome. Love to hear what you think!

Sometimes Mickey Milkovich fucked chicks. It wasn’t his favourite way to pass the time, but it was important that he did for a couple of reasons. First, it kept their neighbourhood under the impression that Mickey was just another Milkovich who’d fuck anything with tits. The other reason was that it allowed him to prove to himself that he wasn’t gay. At worst, the fact that he liked to take it up the ass on occasion meant that he was bi.

Now, if he could only make himself _like_ banging chicks, he’d be set.

So, yeah, sometimes Mickey got it on with the occasional girl; he wasn’t picky, he’d screw whoever would have him.

But there was only one guy he’d let fuck him, and that was Gallagher. And it was for that reason that seeing the other guy flirting with the old-timer who’d come into the store pissed him the hell off.

The chicks Mickey fucked weren’t important to him, not really. They were his way of protecting himself from Terry. There was no trust, and given the fact that the sex left him cold, the connection between them didn’t even extend to the physical. But with Gallagher... Mickey was able to let his guard down a little. He trusted Ian more that he trusted the members of his own family, was more at ease with the redhead than he’d ever been with anyone.

Maybe that was why, each time Mickey saw the old dude reach out to touch Gallagher, and each time that Gallagher allowed it, it felt like a betrayal. If another dude had pulled that shit with Mickey, he’d break the fucker. But Ian was just letting that geriatric put his hands on him like it was natural.

Mickey felt a sudden pang in his chest. He’d never touched the other boy like that, all casual-like. Most of the contact between the came during the times they were fucking. Even when they hung out, Mickey was sure to keep a healthy distance between them so that no one—including the two of them—got the wrong ideal about what their relationship entailed.

Although, that hadn’t exactly worked, as Gallagher had proven last year before Mickey had gotten his ass thrown back in juvie.

And as he was now proving, standing there drinking, watching Ian on his date with grandpa over there.

Mickey knew that him being there was dumb. As he’d pointed out to Gallagher, they weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. This wasn’t a _relationship_ ; they had sex, end of fuckin’ story. But for all that, Mickey couldn’t force himself to leave Ian to his business. The heaviness in his chest had migrated to his feet, cementing him in place.

Mickey didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, but by the time Gallagher and the old-timer had left the fancy bar, he’d gone through all the beer he’d brought with him. And while he hadn’t been able to make his legs work during the time that the two had been inside, he now couldn’t stop his feet from carrying him towards them.

Ian was laughing at something the older man had said, but the smile quickly faded once he caught sight of Mickey.

“Shit, Mickey. What the hell are you doing here?” Gallagher asked, confusion crossing his features.

 _Good fuckin’ question_ , Mickey thought, barely holding on to the anger and—yes, goddamn it, jealousy—crawling through him.

Grandpa looked at him closely and cocked his head. After a second, his eyes lit up with recognition.

“Oh, from the store right?”

Mickey didn’t answer, trying to pretend that the old creep wasn’t talking to him. If he let the words register, if he acknowledged them, he was gonna lose his shit.

“Come on, Ian, don’t be rude,” the older man continued in a chiding tone that set Mickey’s teeth on edge. “Invite your boyfriend back to my place. I mean, the more the merrier, right?”

Mickey had been determinedly avoiding making eye contact with either Ian or his geriatric tag-along, but those words made him stiffen. He felt a sudden throb of fury. He wasn’t sure what pissed him off more: the casual way the fucker said the word ‘boyfriend’—like he’d ever be able to have that kind of relationship with Ian—or the idea that Mickey would ever, _ever_ , be down with what the asshole had just suggested. What exactly did this fuckin’ perv think was gonna happen? The older man’s gall actually made Mickey smile.

“I’m sorry, what did you call me?” he asked, ignoring the warning look Gallagher threw in his direction.

“What?” the old guy asked in confusion.

Before the older man could step back, or Ian could even think to stop him, Mickey viciously headbutted grandpa. He ignored Ian’s yell of, “Jesus, Mickey,” and began beating the shit out of the old geezer. He could hear Ian shouting at him, but he could barely make out the words. The anger that had been building up all afternoon—hell, maybe even longer than that—had broken free.

Even feeling Gallagher shoving him away from the old man didn’t stop him. It just gave Mickey the opportunity to land a few good kicks to grandpa’s ribs.

Without warning, Mickey felt a hand jab at his throat, temporarily blocking his airway. The force knocked him backwards, landing him on his ass.

Shit, he’d forgotten about the redhead’s ninja, ROTC training.

“What the fuck, Gallagher?” Mickey wheezed out when he could breathe again.

“They’re gonna call the cops,” the other boy said in exasperation.

Okay, fair enough, Mickey thought as he scrambled to his feet. His irritation kicked up a notch when he saw the redhead crouched beside the old queer, checking to see if he was okay.

Glancing around quickly, Mickey saw that security was heading their way.

“Come on,” he snapped at Gallagher as the rent-a-cops headed their way.

Ian didn’t move.

“Gallagher!” Mickey called impatiently. For a moment, he wondered if the redhead would stick with grandpa, leaving Mickey to fend for himself.

Mickey felt like his heart froze in that brief instant of uncertainty.

But then it became clear that Mickey shouldn’t have worried, because in the next second, Gallagher was there next to him, and they were running.

“Oh, shit,” Ian huffed as they raced alongside one another.

In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Mickey wanted to laugh. Ian was here, with him. The other boy had chosen to run from the cops with Mickey, and run the risk of getting arrested, rather than stay behind with the old dude.

The elation that accompanied that thought gave Mickey the energy to run faster.

Outrunning the cops was easy; it was something Mickey had been doing since he was twelve, and Gallagher had his baby army training to fall back on. Soon, they were alone in an alley, and Mickey came to a halt. He was breathless from both the exertion, and from trying not to laugh.

Gallagher rounded on him after a second spent catching his breath.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demanded. He didn’t look angry, though; just exasperated.

Snickering, Mickey held his hands up in surrender. Brown eyes continued to glare at him for a minute before the other boy’s lips twitched. And then, Ian was laughing with him.

Mickey revelled in the sound. He’d made Ian smile and laugh like that. Ignoring his own rule of ‘no touching unless fucking’, he poked Gallagher in the belly. It was a ticklish spot he’d inadvertently discovered one day after trying to help the redhead hurry the fuck up and lose his clothes.

Ian let out a little yelp, and his arms came around Mickey for a moment before Mickey jerked away. He dodged the other boy’s attempts to grab hold of him, trying to duck past Ian’s outstretched arms.

And with that, they were running again. Only this time, it wasn’t from the cops or from themselves; they were _playing._

Mickey only made it a couple of feet before Gallagher, with those long damn legs, caught up with him. Before Mickey knew what was happening, Ian had his arms wrapped around his waist, and had propelled Mickey into the wall of the alley.

Ian roughly jerked Mickey so that his back was to the wall. The redhead then promptly pressed up against him, so that Mickey could feel every inch of the other boy’s body. He could feel Ian’s strong arms around him, feel Gallagher gasping for air against his chest, and feel his erection rubbing against Mickey’s own hard cock.

He looked up and met Ian’s eyes. The laughter was fading, and his gaze turned searching. Mickey knew that the other boy no doubt wanted to know what the hell all that had been about, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. After a minute, Ian’s expression lit with understanding and it made Mickey twitch uncomfortably.

Mickey hated that Gallagher could see through him so easily, and he really didn’t wanna talk about what had just happened. Bad enough that he’d assaulted some rich old dude in front of a whole crowd of witnesses; he really didn’t feel like going into his reasons for doing it.

So Mickey did the one thing he knew would distract the redhead: he thrust his hips against Gallagher’s, allowing him to feel his hardness through the material of their jeans.

Hearing Ian’s breath catch sent a thrill up Mickey’s spine, so he did it again.

Suddenly, Mickey felt Ian’s hands on his hips, squeezing, forcing Mickey to keep still. The other boy leaned forwards, and for a heart stopping second, Mickey thought that Ian was gonna kiss him. Before he could decide on a response—push Gallagher away, or pull him closer—Ian bypassed his mouth to whisper in his ear.

“Undo your pants.”

Mickey ignored the slight pang of disappointment he felt as he hastened to comply. Feeling Ian working on his own jeans managed to distract him, and his dick jerked a little in anticipation. Wanting Ian’s dick in him as soon as possible, Mickey made to face the wall when a hand firmly pushed him back.

“What’d you think you’re doing?” Gallagher asked, his voice husky.

Mickey made an impatient sound before answering. “Thought you were gonna fuck me.”

“No lube,” Ian said with a shrug.

Mickey was just about to point out that that was nothing a little spit couldn’t cure, when Gallagher pushed up against him again, rubbing his hard dick against Mickey’s own. The feel of their cocks rubbing together made Mickey groan, and he quickly forgot about what it was they’d been arguing about.

Ian’s skin was hot, and Mickey could feel the precum that was running down from the head of the other boy’s dick. It felt _so good_. All Mickey could do was meet Ian thrust for thrust. He could hear the helpless little whimpers escaping him, and he didn’t even fuckin’ care because...

He couldn’t finish the thought, because Ian chose that moment to bite down on the spot between Mickey’s neck and shoulder. The sharp sensation mixed with the pleasure, and caused Mickey to make a hoarse sound at the back of his throat. In that instant, he was frantic to touch Ian, to leave his own mark on the other boy.

Scrabbling with the redhead’s shirt, he managed to yank the material up and came into contact with skin. Instinct had Mickey gripping Ian tight, digging his fingers into the other boy’s shoulders.

By this point, they were both panting and straining against each other, the thrusting of their hips gaining speed. Ian released his death grip on one of Mickey’s hips, and used that hand to grab hold of Mickey’s cock. The feel of Ian circling the head with his thumb, rubbing through the precum beading at the tip, was too much.

The tension coiling inside him snapped, and Mickey cried out, dragging his nails down Ian’s back. That seemed to set the other boy off too. He stiffened, and the sounds he made as he came were muffled against Mickey’s shoulder.

It seemed to take a long time for them to come down. When Mickey finally caught his breath, becoming aware of his surroundings, he could feel Ian trembling against him. Normally, at this point, Mickey would be pushing the other boy away, rearranging his own clothes in preparation of walking away.

But this time, Mickey couldn’t bring himself to do it. Maybe it was as a result of the unexpected surge of possessiveness he’d experienced that afternoon, or if it was the sense of safety that came from being Ian’s arms. Either way, instead of distancing himself from the other boy, he hesitantly wrapped his arms around Ian’s waist.

And so, for a few stolen moments, that was how they remained: lost in each other’s arms.


End file.
